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February days are a marketing gimmick; love happens every day – Randeep Hopa
Once, in a mood that was half big-brotherly pride and half a desire to watch Tim squirm, Dick had given Tim his old make-out mixtape. It had backfired horribly in the end. Now he could always tell when Tim and Steph were making out from the tell-tale sound of Mazzy Star. He’d only put that song on anyway to impress Barbara.
He lingered for a few seconds outside the door to Tim’s room, half-humming along with the song under his breath. Then he remembered that he was standing outside his little brother’s room listening in while he made out with his girlfriend, and there would probably be some argument about privacy and boundaries if anyone saw him.
He carried onto the kitchen. Winter in Gotham was a special kind of miserable, even if it wasn’t as cold as some of the places he’d been. It was times like these he prayed for a break out from Mr Freeze. At least then they’d get a snow day to go with the weather. But instead they got rain, on and off showers that appeared out of nowhere and came down so hard it felt like the drops were hitting him with malice. It would have been better if there was a big case they could work on, but apparently criminals viewed February as a dead time too. Everyone went out at night and sat in the rain, bored and miserable and praying for a mugger or skulking around the docks desperately searching for someone shady. And then they all came back to the manor and sat inside, watching TV they didn’t want to watch and training with a methodical sluggishness. The other day he’d watched Tim and Damian spar in a way that almost looked friendly until he realised they were barely paying attention to the fight.
At least the kitchen had the giant stove that always bought the whole room to an almost-uncomfortable heat, and Alfred who always had at least three delicious things squirrelled away – and apparently today it had Jason, dutifully whisking away at a bowl of batter. He was listening to one of Alfred’s stories with the softest expression on his face, always carefully hiding it whenever Alfred looked at him.
He considered just backing out silently, but then Jason looked up and caught him.
“Hey, Dick.” The dirty looks that Jason gave him these days were more resigned than actually sour, which Dick was counting as a victory. Even if Jason had gotten back into the habit of using his name as a low-key insult, something he hadn’t done since he was fifteen.
“Hey, Jason. What you making?”
“Little chocolate souffles,” said Alfred. “I’m practising for the Wayne Valentine’s Gala. And if you eat one more bit of batter, Master Jason, I’m going to tell Bruce that you’ve promised to show up.”
“You wouldn’t,” said Jason, going several shades paler.
“I would. Now, Master Dick, you can assist me on the raspberry crepes.”
“I just wanted a coffee,” he said, but he dutifully began mixing the batter under Alfred’s watchful eye.
Alfred talked. Dick and Jason whisked in silence, laughing at the stories and asking questions when appropriate. Dick sometimes wondered how Alfred never ran out of stories, and then wondered if he’d run out of them years ago and was now making them up as he went along to fill in the trademark Wayne silences. Jason finished the soufflés and Dick finished the pancakes and Alfred left them with the task of coring five hundred strawberries while he went to pick up Damian from school. Dick agreed to help, and so did Jason, and it was all fine until Alfred left the room and Dick realised he was alone with Jason in a room full of sharp implements and he wasn’t honestly sure who was more likely to end up stabbing whom in the event of an argument.
They cored and chopped in silence until Jason broke it.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what nefarious shenanigans have bought me here?”
“You were whisking batter. I think Alfred’s already spoiled any shenanigans you might have.” There was a long pause, and when Dick looked up Jason was standing unnaturally straight, eyes fixed on a point on the tiled wall. “Did you have nefarious shenanigany plans? Because I assumed you just came here to see Alfred.”
Jason visibly relaxed. “Actually I came here because it was warm. I mean, Alfred’s always a plus, but my hideout at the moment is over a – it’s pretty shitty and cold, and I couldn’t physically pull another jumper over the ones I’d already layered on. Plus Bruce is always telling me that this is still my home and all that crap, so I figured I’d finally take advantage.” He shrugged, and when Dick met his eyes they looked both entirely honest and like looking at a wall. “I figured if I hid in the kitchen I wouldn’t run into any of you. I asked Alfred not to announce my rival.”
Dick nodded. “I’m not going to go running to Bruce.”
“I figured you had two fingers on the panic button.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jason. There isn’t a panic button in the kitchen, we’d press it by accident all the time. The panic buttons out in the hall.”
Jason laughed a little harder than he needs to at that, but Dick would live with it.
There was the moment after a joke where the conversation stillsed and Dick searcheed for something to say when someone called out “Hello?” in the hall. He looked at Jason expecting him to rush off, but Jason was looking at him with pretty much the same expression and then he placed the voice. He’d been distracted by Jason and cake batter, but Barbara was here now. He tried to dampen his spirits, guard his face the same way Bruce did, and hoped he looked like he was walking calmly – not rushing like a puppy – into the hall to greet her.
“Babs!” He realised, too late, that he had cake batter on his elbow, but he couldn’t wipe it off now without drawing more attention to it. Babs looked at him, and he got the warm flush he got whenever he was around her – a strange, desperate feeling that he needed her, he needed her, and he wasn’t going to get enough of her and he didn’t know why.
She looked up at him, surprised and a little wary (or weary? He didn’t know). “Oh, hey. I was just looking for Cass. We’re going out shopping today?”
“Uh, I’ll just call her.” He bounded to the top of the stairs and bellowed for Cass, bounding back down again with only a little flip over the handrail at the end. He wasn’t going to flip around. He wasn’t. “So why you going shopping?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “We enjoy spending time together and we both need to wear clothes?”
“No, I mean – I was just wondering if you were buying something for the Valentine’s Gala.”
“Oh, right. No, I’m not going. I have a whole bunch of papers to grade and I’m going to need all this week.” She stared down at the floor, then at the clock, then up at the landing where Cass was due to appear. “So, what are you doing tonight?”
His heart gave a tiny, tiny little flip. Only a little one. “Uh, nothing so far. Why?”
“Because it’s Valentine’s Day, Dick.” Her voice was flat. “Or did you not notice that Tim and Steph have been glued to each other all day?”
“I just assumed they were being hormonal. Also, how did you know they were glued together?”
“Stephanie described her plans to me as “make out, take out and stake out.””
“That… actually sounds like the perfect Valentine’s Day.”
“She’s a sensible girl when she tries to be.”
“They’re listening to the Fade Into You tape.”
She laughed sharply, like it had caught her by surprise. “Oh my god. I was so sick of that song.”
“What? Are you serious? I only put it on because you once said you liked that band and I wanted to impress you.”
“I did, but I had to listen to it nearly every single day!”
“This is what I get for being considerate,” he said, and then were just grinning at each other a little softly, and neither of them were checking the landing.
“What are you doing tonight?” he said, trying to make it sound light.
“Going out with Cass for a Galentine’s Night.” She was trying to sound even lighter, and he felt them slipping back into old territory.
“I’m ready,” said Cass, who had apparently already passed the landing and was now standing by the front door without either of them noticing.
“Have a good day,” he said, pulling her in and pressing a big-brother kiss to her black hair. He just about reigned in the impulse to do the same for Barbara.
He expected Jason to be gone when he got back to the kitchen, but he was sitting on the edge of the sideboard, eating the strawberries.
“Wow. You guys really, really aren’t together anymore, right?”
“Jason – “
“I mean, I heard you were broken up but I thought it was a break. I mean, true love is forever and what – “
“Jason,” he said, and he was gripping Jason’s wrist white knuckled, and the more sober part of him told him that he was about to get punched.
Instead, Jason hopped off the sideboard and just looked down at him for a few silent seconds. Then he slowly pulled Dick towards him until they were chest to chest, hands awkwardly perched on Dick’s shoulders.
“Jason.”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m hugging you. You seem to hug people a lot, and you’re pissy when you’re stressed so – more hugging equals less pissy Dick.”
“Oh. Ok. Thanks. You might want to actually wrap your arms around.”
“It’s a token gesture, Dick, it’s not meant to be comforting.” He moved to pull away, but Dick wrapped his arms around him and he stayed for just long enough.
“I’m going out to the rose gardens for a smoke,” said Jason as they pulled apart. “You want one?”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Nope, but it’ll calm you down and you’ll also feel like you’re subtly pissing off Bruce without actually having to rebel.”
“I don’t get the same pleasure from winding him up that you do,” he said, but he followed Jason out and ignored his amused snort.
“You’re right,” he said, perched up in an apple tree a few moments later. “This does feel like I’m somehow betraying Bruce.”
“Told you.”
“But it’s killing my throat. Take it.”
“Stub it out. It’s not like I bought them.”
“What?”
Jason shrugged. “There’s a nice sort of karma in taking things off muggers.”
“You didn’t shoot him?”
“Gosh, you kill like five drug lords and suddenly everyone assumes you’re just killing everybody.”
“The hardships you face.” Jason laughed, and then stiffened.
“Someone’s coming.”
“Oh shit, what if it’s Bruce?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Damn, if Dad finds out you’re smoking then he’ll definitely ground you. Anyway, it’s not Bruce. They’re too small.” He cocked his head. “And I think they’re crying.”
Steph rounded the corner, her face wet and red, and stopped. Dick was trying very hard to act innocent and doing so badly, and one look at Jason told him he was doing the same thing.
“Hey,” said Steph weakly. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Cool,” said Dick. “This isn’t either.”
“Want to come up?” said Jason. “Sitting in a tree is all kinds of therapeutic.”
Steph huffed and scrambled up to sit on the branch just below them, keeping her back to them while she rubbed her face.
“Shouldn’t you be on your make out take out stake out date?” he said.
“We had a fight. Or – I had a fight with Tim and he just sat there and looked confused.”
“What about?”
“Dumb stuff. You know those fights were you’re both just angry at the other one about everything and neither of you know why?”
“Yeah.”
“Well – that, except it was totally one sided. I was just – I was so sick of him looking at me like he thinks I’m dumb, or he’s worried I’m going to die when he should know that I’m not fifteen anymore, I’m better now, I’m better than him sometimes and I can look after myself.” She half-shrugged. “And now we still have to do this stupid stake-out together and I think I’m going to go mad.”
“I’ll do it instead,” said Jason.
Steph looked up. “You’d do that?”
He shrugged, purposefully nonchalant. “I promise not to kill anyone. Plus, it’ll have the added bonus of making Red Wonder horribly uncomfortable.”
Steph snorted. “Oh my god. Please keep me in the com loop. I want to hear that. Just, uh, don’t stab him again?”
“That was one time, and he totally tried to kill me back. We’re even.”
Steph sighed, but didn’t comment. “What about you, Dick? You got a hot date?”
“A hot date with crime.”
Jason and Steph groaned as one.
“That’s it,” said Steph. “You’re going to be single for ever because you’ll never stop being lame.”
“Hey, you should hear Flash’s puns. And he’s married. Oh, you could always go with Cass and Babs on their Galentine’s night to cheer you up.”
Steph stiffened slightly. “Uh, nah. They’ve got their own thing going on. Plus I’d probably get drunk and start whining about Tim, and god knows they don’t want that to happen.” She paused. “I don’t want to be that girl,” she said.
Dick opened his mouth to pry, but Jason caught his eye and shook his head. She was probably just exhausted from fighting. Needed a night in eating ice cream or whatever. Dick had put on so much weight after his last break up with Babs. He knew the ice cream calling.
And now he was thinking of Babs again, and he wanted ice cream more than ever.
Which reminded him – “Shit, Jason. The strawberries.”
“Is there any movement?” Tim asked for the sixth time in three minutes.
Jason’s voice was laconic over the com line. “Tim, if you ask one more time, I’m going to strangle you.”
Tim’s swallow was just about audible over the coms. Sitting next to Dick, Steph stifled a giggle. They were eating ice cream in the Batcave (totally forbidden, but Dick was learning the therapeutic benefits of mildly pissing off Bruce) and listening to Tim’s mild crisis.
“So,” said Jason, still laid back. “Is it true that you used to follow me and Bruce around with a camera?”
Steph couldn't stop the giggles this time, and Dick had to clamp a hand over her mouth while she shook silently.
“Um, I was, um, twelve at the time. It was – photography was my hobby, ok?”
“Sounds like stalking was your hobby, too.”
“Oh come on, everyone was weird when they were thirteen.”
“I think it was just you, Reds.”
“Really?” said Tim, sounding surprisingly bold. “Because I recall a story about you looking at the most secure car in the city and thinking “Hey, I bet I could steal a tyre from that”.”
Jason laughed. “All right, I don’t really have a way to defend that one.”
“I’ve always wondered about that story. About what you were thinking.”
“I was mostly thinking “Screw Batman”, to be honest. My thought patterns haven’t changed much since I was thirteen.”
“I’d never have guessed,” said Tim dryly, and Jason laughed again, loudly and sounding a little bit surprised.
There was a long pause.
“You ever get any good pics?”
“… Yeah,” said Tim. “You, uh – I figured you’d remember the kid following you taking pictures.”
“What do you mean?”
“You waved at me,” said Tim.
“I did?”
“I got a picture of it. You saw me. You waved at me.”
“Sorry. I guess – “
“It’s ok. I didn’t expect you to remember.”
“Wait, no, listen.” Jason sounded a little bit pleading. “I’ve got – I’ve got these holes in my memory. Like I don’t remember the first time I saw Dick in his discowing outfit, even though Alfred tells me I threw a fit laughing and Dick humiliating himself seems like the kind of thing I’d cherish forever. And I don’t – there’s cases I remember where I can’t remember how they ended. As Robin, I mean.”
“Shit. Shit, Jason, that’s awful.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I forgot anything I need to remember.”
“Yeah,” said Tim. “But it’s still awful.”
There was a long pause, and then Jason.
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.” Then – “Movement.”
Dick was waiting on the front steps when Cass got dropped off, trying to look like he wasn’t waiting. Cass was baby-wobbly and leaning on first Babs, then Dick for support as they guided her inside.
“I’m going to go to sleep,” she cheerfully informed them, and then she curled up on the couch and did. Dick stared down at her at a loss, and almost startled when Babs touched his arm.
“Leave her. She’ll be fine. She drunk way too much. I’ve never seen her get like that.”
“She’s young. She’ll learn just how bad a hangover can be.”
Babs laughed in the dark. “How was your night?”
“I ate ice cream with Steph and Tim went on the stake out with Jason.”
“Jesus, did no one in this family get laid?”
“Uh – I actually haven’t seen Bruce all day.”
He could just about see the face Babs pulled. “That’s not really an image I want.”
“Yeah.” He paused, and they both spoke at once –
“Do you want a cup of coffee? Alfred’s – “
“I should really get back, my doorman – “
They paused, holding each other’s eyes, and then Barbara looked down. “I, uh, yeah. I should go home.”
“Ok. Happy Valentine’s, Babs.”
“Happy Valentine’s, Dick.”
He found Tim in his room at 4 a:m, peeling off his body armour and listening to Fade Into You.
“Love sucks,” he told Dick.
He sighed. “Yeah. It does.”